


How To Save A Life

by chlovrs



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bussiness man Kiyoomi, Depressed Miya Atsumu, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Farmer Kita Shinsuke, Getting Together, Haikyuu MSBY, Hinata Shouyou is Sunshine, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kita Shinsuke is an angel, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, MSBY, Minor Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Minor Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Miya Atsumu Being an Idiot, Miya Atsumu Needs a Hug, Onigiri Miya, Poor Life Choices, Pro Volleyball Player Hinata Shouyou, Pro Volleyball Player Kageyama Tobio, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, References to Depression, Sad Miya Atsumu, Sakusa Kiyoomi is Bad at Feelings, Slice of Life, Suicidal Thoughts, Volleyball Dorks & Nerds, atsumu is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29728770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chlovrs/pseuds/chlovrs
Summary: Kiyoomi was the only person who noticed Atsumu's smile never reached his eyes.aka the story where Atsumu is a complete mess and Kiyoomi is too put together for his own good.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	How To Save A Life

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! once again I'm starting a new story instead of finishing the dozen ongoing ones I have. Sorry, I'm a mess.
> 
> This story is actually pretty special to me though, I never put myself into characters if that makes sense? but for some reason, I really wanted to this time. Idk something about Atsumu just speaks to me? I wouldn't say I kin but I've always had a soft spot for him so his character seemed like the perfect guinea pig. I've been having a kinda rough time, and I thought maybe writing about it would be therapeutic and it has been! I never thought I'd post this, but I thought maybe other people could relate? so I'm giving it a go :) (for clarification I am ok lmao just a dumb emo bitch with too much free time)
> 
> I'll insert trigger warnings at the top of each chapter! 
> 
> TRIGGER for chpt 1: mentions of depression, brief mentions of bullying, and brief mentions of suicide.

When Atsumu Miya looked in the mirror, he wasn’t always sure who he was looking at.

He had built this reputation for being a ball of childish energy, a volleyball prodigy, and the annoying twin that always ended up in some kind of trouble. And it wasn’t as if those things _weren’t_ true, he did act like that. Especially when his mind was distracted by training, or family time, or whatever youtube hole he’d stumbled into.

But when he laid down for the night in the dark, in relative silence, there was one thing he thought about. When the rest of the world had fizzled away, and he was left with his own mind for company, Atsumu thought about dying.

He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t thought about it. Death, dying…sometimes even killing himself. As a child, it was scary, he'd be tucked up in bed, Osamu fast asleep occupying the top bunk, and suddenly all he could think was o _ne day I won’t exist, I’ll die one day, what if I die now? I don’t want to die now._ He'd panic, choke on his anxieties under his heavy duvet as if the material could suffocate them out of existence. It was a mental mantra he’d grown up with through no fault of anyone else. He had quite a nice childhood, he was close with his family, he had a few friends but then again he didn’t need them since he had Osamu. He had no reason to feel so glum all the time, he just did. Life for Atsumu had always been unexplainably painful. He didn’t have a single memory where death didn’t loom in the background, waiting patiently to reach the foremost front of his imagination.

He thought it would go away as he grew, but it didn’t. If anything it grew with him like an ugly scar. And in all logical sense, he should have told his parents about what ran through his head late at night. He trusted them after all, he’d been given no reason not to. But because he was an insecure child, and because there was no obvious cause for his miserable outlook on life, he began thinking his feelings just…weren’t valid. He couldn’t explain why back then, hell he couldn’t even explain now as an adult.

All throughout middle school he hoped maybe he was simply desensitized to the idea of death. That could happen, right? You think about something so much that you no longer fear it.

He latched onto that pretty successfully until his last year of high school. Then a boy in his class had committed suicide, nobody knew but he’d been bullied pretty brutally by some of the kids online and decided he couldn’t take it anymore. The school mourned him, as did teachers, even parents who’d never met the boy cried for him as if they’d lost their own son. Atsumu figured there was something disgustingly wrong with him after that because his heart didn’t break in sympathy for the tragic loss of a fellow classmate. No, Atsumu was jealous of him for being brave enough to do it.

After that, he didn’t cry because he was scared of dying. He cried because he _wanted_ to die, and he was smart enough to know thinking of that at the age of eighteen, unprovoked, wasn’t normal.

Atsumu wanted to end his life. He didn’t care how, he’d considered hiring someone from the dark web to murder him for a few months. There were nights where he found himself staring at the first aid kit he kept in his room, knowing he likely had enough painkillers saved up to do the job. Or the time he took up skydiving and prayed his parachute failed as he jumped his first solo dive. Then, of course, there were his years in university. He’d temped fate with strangers in nightclubs too many times to count. He’d been beaten an inch of his life in bar brawls too, but of course, his opponents never hurt him in the way he wanted.

And despite all that, all those feelings. He was somehow still alive.

Atsumu rocked lightly with the movement of the empty midnight train car, his body felt heavier than yesterday and the anxieties of tomorrow were already seeping into his mind exhausting any possible fight he had left in him. He’d jumped from being a high school volleyball prodigy to a university graduate in what felt like a flash, and now was having to battle with the real world. In complete honestly, he'd thought he’d taken the right steps to secure a semi-decent future. He’d worn the mask of a man who knew what he wanted, so in all respects, he felt like he’d been a model citizen. He couldn’t understand why he was in his current situation, because he highly doubted that his so-called destiny was to be sofa hopping around the prefectures of Japan like a disloyal cat desperate for food.

He was putting himself through so much, to live a life he didn’t care about. But it wasn’t like he could just die _now_ , he’d set himself up for a long life. His family was expecting him to carry that out, and they’d done nothing but be kind to him and support him. He owed it to them to…to at least _try_. After all, it really wasn't their fault he was like this.

Based on the life he'd lead up until now, he knew two things that were certain. He should want to play volleyball professionally and he should play it with his brother by his side.

But of course, life didn’t follow half-hearted plans.

Atsumu jumped off the midnight train, the station's lightbulb of choice barely lit up the tiled path in front of him but he’d walked it so many times before that he could probably walk it blindfolded now.

Every time Atsumu did this he was embarrassed beyond belief, it chipped away at his pride with pinpoint accuracy and always left him with a heavy guilty feeling in his chest. But he didn’t exactly have a choice. After a mere fifteen-minute walk, he was knocking on the door of the all too familiar one bedroom apartment. Atsumu had seventy thousand yen in his bank account, maybe one month’s rent depending on the city or prefecture, and a backpack consisting of the old busted laptop he’d practically taped together, his phone charger, a single change of clothes, and a few pairs of underwear.

In short, he was pretty screwed.

The door creaked open and Atsumu found himself not even being able to speak. This was the third time he’d shown up unannounced, the third time he was going to ask to crash on an old friend's sofa, and the third time was probably not going to be the last time either.

But for some reason, it was the relentless kindness of the other that hurt him even more.

He was understandable sheepish when he greeted him with, “Hey Captn’’”

Kita’s eyes were as soft as they always were, as was his smile and the way he let Atsumu stay as long as he needed without question.

Atsumu felt like an absolute ass for taking advantage of it.

“You can stop calling me captain now, Miya, we haven’t played together in years,” he stepped aside, and Atsumu wasted no time in getting out of the cold night air and into the warmth of Kita’s apartment, “I’ll make some tea.”

Atsumu kicked his shoes off in the genkan, made sure to neaten them in the same way Kita’s were, before he dropped his bag neatly on top of the little wooden rack.

By the time Atsumu turned the corner, Kita had two cups of herbal tea set and was patiently waiting for the water to finish boiling.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened this time?”

A shrill chill ran up Atsumu’s spine, the same type of chill he’d get whenever Kita would chew out his errors on court with brutal honesty. That was one feeling he'd never miss.

“Uh…It’s just not really working out for me right now.”

Kita didn’t like that answer too much, “Don’t be vague Miya, how am I supposed to help if you won’t tell me everything?”

“You’re helping me enough by lettin’ me crash with ya Kita-san, I can’t ask ya for anythin’ more.” Atsumu mumbled. 

He wouldn’t say he was horrible at communicating with people but Kita was the type to just cut straight to the heart of things, it was jarring sometimes. Atsumu couldn’t remember how he’d gotten around stark-straight up Kita through high school.

Kita was a person Atsumu trusted but at the same time, he didn’t. He could never tell Kita about what he really wanted, about himself. Which is probably why he'd refrained from telling him much about his current living situation, which was that he didn't have one.

He remembered how, during volleyball training, Kita would praise him for his _honesty_. He shouldn’t have thought about it so much, after all, Kita was only talking about his sets. But he couldn’t help but think… _he hadn’t been honest a day in his life_. That one compliment always made him realize that they- his teammates- didn’t know him, they knew his façade…they knew the bubbly and childish mask he’d adored since his mashed-up brain discovered death.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Now tell me what's going on.”

Atsumu’s sigh was heavy enough to release a bit of his tension.

Where did he even begin? what should he tell him? he defiantly wasn't going to tell him he'd been scrounging for food that's for sure. Instead of the full relevant truth, Atsumu spun something that technically wasn't a lie.

“You know about Samu’ right?”

Kita nodded, the steam from the kettle fluttering his face as he poured the tea, “Yes. I’m planning to do business with him once I find a good plot of land. I hear Onigiri Miya’s been a hit with the locals.”

Atsumu hated the way his stomach twisted with resentment at the mention of Onigiri Miya. He was glad his brother found successes, truly he was. He knew he was just jealous, he wished he wanted something with the same honest passion that Osamu had. He didn’t say that, though “I just… never thought we’d stop playing together ya know.” Atsumu took the cup he was offered and wrapped his hands around it, the slight burn of his palms soothing him, “I thought he wanted to go pro with me. And then when he bailed I didn’t know what to do."

Atsumu remembered the very start of it. When Atsumu was invited to the All Youth Training Camp, Osamu wasn't

He remembered yelling, “Fuck you, Samu. Why aren’t ya more upset?” with his hands on his hips as he stared at his brother’s back.

“I am upset.” Osamu replied tiredly. “But if anything …I’m upset that I’m not as upset as I thought I’d be.”

That should have sparked something in Osamu, it should have lit a fire under him in the way Atsumu had expected it to. After all, the only _real_ reason Atsumu was so determined to play volleyball was because Osamu played.

They'd always had an intense rivalry growing up. It was only natural when every single person you knew associated you with another, barely ever seeing you as your own person, it was natural to want to be known as the _better_ twin.

The topic of battle didn’t matter all that much. The only thing that mattered was if a clear winner and loser could be named. They both strived to be better than the other, more talented, more skilled, more muscular, smarter, stronger, anything. And in turn, despite all the bruises, fights, and screaming matches, they push each other way past their limits. They were their own biggest rivals and strongest allies wrapped in one.

They pushed each other to be better. Always. And deep down, all they really wanted was for the other to be the best version of themselves.

However, Atsumu suffered from a severe case of tunnel vision, and despite acting cocky and competitive, especially when it came to Osamu, he didn’t like playing volleyball without him. It’s the only way he’d ever played and the only way he’d ever planned to play. And he’d always seen it as a given that Osamu felt the same way.

It was his plan, the only one he'd ever dared to dream about. Since he’d first started to get into Volleyball. He didn’t _hate_ the game, on good days he even liked it. Atsumu wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to play without Osamu keeping him in check. He wanted them to play together for the rest of their lives, that’s the one future, the _only_ future, Atsumu ever saw. It was the only future he’d drag himself out of bed to reach, the only thing worth living for. He gave no thought to anything else, didn’t even like the idea of _what if_.

Not as upset as he thinks he should be?

Atsumu remembered losing it then, “What the fuckin’ hell s’that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Osamu breathed after he finished tying his shoes, he stood up to face him, “I think that skill-wise, we’re pretty much on the same level,”

“Nah, m’still above ya.” Atsumu scoffed.

“Let me finish, ya scrub.” Osamu barked, “I said, skill-wise, I think we’re about the same. But, when it comes to love for the game? Your love for it was always greater than mine, Tsumu.”

 _Wrong_. Osamu was so goddamn wrong, but how was Atsumu supposed to tell him that. How do you explain to somebody that _they’re the only reason you haven’t tried to end it all yet._

It wouldn’t make any sense, Osamu wouldn’t believe that. But it was the truth. The only reason Atsumu had played was because of Osamu, the only reason Atsumu still wanted to play was because of Osamu.

_He didn’t know how long he’d last without Osamu._

Even then Atsumu could understand what his brother was trying to hint at. But he didn’t want to accept it, so he turned away from him before Osamu could. By the end of high school, Atsumu’s world felt like it had fallen apart, because not only had he realized he truly wanted to die, but the one person who had always been there for him and the _only_ person he wanted by his side suddenly…wasn’t.

Atsumu had no choice but to swallow his resentment every time Onigiri Miya was mentioned. He packed up his belongings from the Hyogo family home and embarked on his rapidly derailing life.

He jumped from sofa to sofa, stealing a meal where he could, and contemplated life and death like a normal person would when trying to decide what they wanted for dinner that day.

Until eventually he’d decided he’d try, he’d give life one good go and if it all went to shit he could at least die knowing he gave it his all.

“He’ll always be your brother Atsumu, you don’t need to worry about him. You need to worry about yourself and what _you’re_ going to do.”

Living wasn’t something that should be seen as optional, but that’s how Atsumu found himself viewing it. He’d always asked why what for? What did he have to live for? On the nights when he got a little too drunk, or a little too comfortable he’d pose the question to the people around him. They always answered with certainty, talked about their friends, family, or goals. Dreams even. Atsumu was sure that many of their answers should overlap with his, but whenever he asked himself the same question he came up empty.

Since his only real goal was crushed, there was nothing he truly wanted to do. He’d lied to everybody his entire life, they wouldn’t miss _him_ if he died _..._ they’d miss his act.

Kita abandoned his tea on the kitchen island, seemingly following a new train of thought. He pulled open one of his kitchen draws which looked to be filled with takeaway leaflets which was…unexpected. He seemed to be looking for one specifically.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” Atsumu asked. Kita found whatever it was and bought it over, he handed the white glossy booklet to Atsumu who accepted it with skepticism. “Housing?”

“I know a guy from high school who recently got into the business, I’m sure he has a few apartments still available for rent.” Atsumu flicked through the pages, skimming the information with lazy eyes until Kita stopped him. He pointed at a block of apartments being sold under a company called TokyoHousing, “That’s the company he works for, from what he tells me the apartments are pretty cheap on the lower floors and the more expensive ones are on the higher floors.”

“That makes sense I suppose,” Atsumu mumbled.

“I can help you get in touch with him if you like.”

Atsusmu’s eyes blew wide. It wasn’t as if Kita being helpful or generous was rare, but this level of it was…it was just—

“Kita-san…I can’t accept this it’s too much—”

Kita cut his self-pity off with his usual brutal honestly, “Am I supposed to let you be homeless for the rest of your life?” Atsumu opened and closed his mouth what must’ve been a thousand times, but he eventually gave up and sipped his tea instead, he knew when he could talk back to Kita and now wasn’t one of those times, “I’ll give you his private number, if you tell him that I recommended his help he will find you somewhere no questions asked.”

He was beyond grateful, of course he was. He was lucky he had people in his life who’d do things like this for him. Why they did it was beyond him, but he was smart enough to know when to accept help. Kita was right, he couldn’t be homeless forever.

Atsumu’s faced pulled tight, flashing emotions like a lighthouse searching for a ship “Thank you Kita-san. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.”

The man's face was soft, genuine, and sincere. There wasn’t a single wrinkle of apprehension, he knew exactly what he wanted to say, meant exactly what he said, “Just do your best.”

* * *

After only three days of sleeping on Kita’s sofa Atsumu was on a train to Tokyo. When Kita had said this friend of his would help sort him with a place, Atsumu thought he meant that the guy would _try_ and find something for him. He never imaged that the guy would thrust Atsumu to the top of his priority list, send him two cheap apartments available, and then set up a viewing.

Whoever this man was, he either _really_ owed Kita or he was hopelessly in love with him because there was no way a regular friend would be willing to do this much just as a favor.

He was lucky he hadn’t had to spend any money while staying with Kita, not that Kita would have let him either way. But it meant he might be able to seal a deal today, or at least within the next few weeks. Atsumu couldn’t care less about the state of the apartments, as long as they had hot running water and a kitchen he didn’t care. He’d sleep in a cupboard if he had to.

Atsumu hadn’t been to Tokyo in a while, he’d gone to university there but he always stuck to the student areas. Even after spending four years in the city, he barely knew it. Tokyo was overwhelmingly large, the people too…there was just so many of them. Atsumu had bounced around Kyoto, Shibuya, and even spent a day on Aran’s spare futon in Yokohama. The only reason he’d been able to travel so far for free was because of the yearly train pass he’d bought once he’d graduated from University a few months ago. He thought it would come in hand, and by god had it.

As he pulled up to the central Tokyo station, he called the number Kita had given him.

Less than three rings in, the man answered.

“Hello, Miya-san?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Just pullin’ up to the station on platform four.”

There was some kind of rustling on the other end, as if the man had dropped his phone to his coat or a bag or something, “I’ll be there right away! I’m just parking up, wait for me at the gates!”

Atsumu mumbled conformation was slightly incoherent, but the man didn’t seem to mind.

He hung up, the train pulled to a stop, and a thousand bodies scarpered up the stairs and toward the exit like a bunch of shy mice.

He barely had the time to catch his breath from the long stair climb before an oddly familiar-looking man waved at him erratically from behind the gates.

“Miya-san!” Atsumu racked his brain the entire walk over, why was this person familiar? He was certain he’d never spoken to him personally. When he reached the gate, the man continued. "I’m Kazuhito Narita, the retailer Kita-san suggested.” His smile was bright, his hair was shaved, and he was in a casual business look and he clutched a convenience store bag as if he’d been in a rush. Kazuhito must’ve noticed where Atsumu’s eyes focused because he suddenly lifted the bag up and thrust it toward him, “Oh I got you pickled plums, Kita-san said you liked them. Think of it as a welcome back to Tokyo.”

“Oh,” Atsumu took the bag with a grateful bow, “Thank you Kazuhito-san.” The two began walking to the retailer's car, a horrifically ugly company car of course, and as they hopped in Atsumu couldn’t help but ask, “This might sound weird but have we met before? You look kinda familiar.” 

He popped a pickled plum into his mouth as he waited for a response.

Kazuhito appeared slightly embarrassed by the question, his cheeks flushed as he started the car and the way he avoided looking at Atsumu was painfully obvious. “Uh—I guess. Not really though. I played Volleyball with Karasuno back in high school, but I wasn’t rotated into the big games much. I pretty much just stood and cheered for everyone.”

That made sense, Atsumu had incredibly strong tunnel vision that match more so than any other one. He barely noticed anyone from Karasuno, other than Hinata and Kageyama of course. He’d probably seen Kazuhito briefly when they packed up to leave.

“You cheered well.” Atsumu said, even though he didn’t recall him fully. But it got Kazuhito to focus on the road and stop being so uncomfortably embarrassed. Atsumu moved the conversation forward, “How do you know Kita-san?”

He perked up at that, “Well, my parents were in the rice business for a long time before we moved to the city. But whenever we traveled back into the country, they’d always set up mini Onigiri stalls or sell their own rice. Kita-san just so happened to be one of the people that stopped by and asked about rice farming.” They stopped at a red-light, and Atsumu’s eyes cast around trying to figure out where they were…but he had no clue, the pickled plums were especially tasty though, “I put in a few good words for him, told them how polished he was in matches and that they should give him some advice. Not sure why they listened to me but they did, so Kita-san and I have been owing each other favors back and forth for years.”

Atsumu didn’t understand the appeal of rice at all, other than for eating, but he did understand how kindness worked, “That was nice of your family...and nice of you to help me now. Thank you.”

Kazuhito side-eyed Atsumu with this barely readable expression, he looked almost _proud_ “You’ve settled down a lot since high school, it’s surprising. When Kita-san asked me to help you out I thought you’d have thrown a fit like you did during nationals.”

That’s how people saw him? _God that’s embarrassing._

“Yeah well…I got my ass handed to me at university so I grew out of it.”

Kazuhito’s cheeks stretched wide in a smile, “Really? You? Never would have taken you for the fighting type.” His sarcasm was deafening but welcomed.

Atsumu huffed, arms crossing in front of him as he stared out the window. Wherever they were heading was pretty far from the usual hustle and bustle of Tokyo, the streets weren’t as cluttered as he would’ve expected, “I let them win obviously, if I actually tried I’d have kicked their asses.”

A bright laugh filled the car, it made Atsumu’s skin prickle. _That’s what real happiness sounded like_ , he wondered if he could ever make a sound like that and have it be genuine.

It wasn’t long before they pulled up into the underground parking lot of the apartment complex. The building looked like a beacon, painted bright white and right on a street corner, situated on the main road that looked as if it saw no traffic at all. Atsumu had taken notice of the few small businesses opposites as Kazuhito turned into the lot, specifically a coffee shop and a takeaway place that Atsumu could see himself frequenting dangerous amounts.

They jumped out of the car, Atsumu holding the bag of his two remaining pickled plums close to his chest, followed and then listened to Kazuhito go into full retailer mode.

“There’s an apartment on floor three and another on floor seven.” He said as they walked through the first set of doors. It kind of reminded Atsumu of a hotel, there was this large layout when you first walked in. Straight ahead was a set of concrete stairs, underneath those stairs was an elevator and on the wall directly in front of the elevator were neatly organized postal boxes for each apartment. It was very…minimal. The walls painted the same white as the exterior, the postboxes a classic silver, and the gunmetal gray stair railing perfectly matched the color of the elevator.

Once again, Kazuhito caught Atsumu’s eye, “Don’t worry you won’t have to walk all the way down here for your mail. These boxes are for the first floor only, your post box will be on your floor.” Atsumu hummed in response and followed Kazuhito into the elevator. He seemed to have all this knowledge stored in his head, he had no notes on him whatsoever…it was impressive.

The elevator doors glided open, smoother than Atsumu had ever seen elevator doors open, and they stepped out onto the third floor. The first thing that caught Atsumu’s eye was the lack of doors. He’d only ever seen apartment complexes where there were doors stuffed next to each other, hundreds of them. Then, of course, he noticed how freakishly clean the place was. The floors were black wood, the walls white. It was _pristine_.

There was no way in hell Atsumu could afford to live in a place as well kept as this. It just reeked of money, and he was only on the third floor. He dreaded to think of how expensive the seventh floor would be.

As they walked through the quiet hallways, Kazuhito continued to talk, “The apartment building belongs to this family, pretty sure it started as a private investment but it grew quite a bit. Now TokyoHousing has loads of these apartments dotted all over.” Atsumu could tell there was a point to this, he wished Kazuhito would hurry up and get to it, “The owner deals with the larger complexes, but the smaller ones like this are managed by his son. From what I hear he hates clutter, knocked through a load of walls, and did some funky renovations so there were fewer apartments on each floor.”

Atsumu could understand that mentality, he’d hate to be crowded by strangers every morning to get his mail. Plus, You could hardly tell such work was done, the walls had been smoothed over to perfection. There wasn’t even a single scratch. Whoever he hired to renovate was thorough, maybe even as thorough as Kita-san.

“Guess that means the apartments are bigger then?”

Kazuhito’s hum of agreement was cut short when they reached apartment number twenty-six. He pulled out a single set of keys and was quick to bust the door open. As expected, it opened smoothly with not even a creak. “Come in!” Kazuhito stepped in first and held the door open for Atsumu. Once it closed behind them, he started on his sales pitch, “So, it’s 380ft in total.” He said, “That’s the power room,” Atsumu turned to where he was pointing directly next to them, and watched as he slid open a white door, “You can control heating and the boiler from here, and that’s the washer,” he said, opening a matching white door directly in front of him, it was a standard washing machine with a dryer next to it.

In fairness, the place didn’t seem so rich-looking. The inside was very simple. The kitchen could comfortably cater to one person, but a second might be a hassle, the toilet was standard and in a separate room to the shower and bath. There wasn’t really a living room as such, it was more of a dining room. There was a simple four-seater table in the center and then a walk-in closet on the far wall. Everything about it was screamed simple Japanese accommodation, and Atsumu quite liked that.

“This is the bedroom” Kazuhito smiled, “double bed with pillow, sheet and duvet included, T.V. no license included, your desk and then…” Atsumu watched as he pulled out the set of keys again, but he was subsequently blinded when Kazuhito pulled up the blinds. A singular click made it to Atsumu's ears, “The balcony.” He walked forward, not expecting much from the view and also not receiving much from it. But hey, at least he could read the takeaway shops menu and delivery hours from here. “So, what do you think?”

Atsumu only had one question, “How much is it?”

Kazuhito’s smile wavered for a fraction of a second as if he _knew_ Atsumu’s situation and didn’t want to disappoint him with any bad news, “Monthly it’s forty thousand yen.”

Atsumu’s eyebrows twitched in pleasant surprise, forty thousand wasn’t too bad. It was probably as good as he was going to get, and he had no intentions of trying his luck to find anything better.

“What about the deposit, and electricity, water, wifi—”

“Miya-san,” Kazuhito offered a small soft smile, one that bordered on pity, “Kita and I already talked about this privately,” Atsumu didn’t like where this was going, “He said he’d pay the deposit, and the electricity in water is included, the only extra charge you’d have is wifi--”

Atsumu’s words got choked in the back of his throat, “He _what_ —”

“D-don’t worry, he didn’t tell me your situation or anything personal like that!” Kazuhito's lips hurried out, eyes wide in panic as if he was scared Atsumu was going to yell at him. No, he wouldn’t yell at Kazuhito…he’d be yelling at Kita though...actually he probably wouldn’t be, but he’d _want_ to “He said he owed you a favor, so I uh—” Kazuhito started to look anywhere but at the taller Atsumu, his face reddening by the second as he stumbled over incomplete sentences.

It didn’t take too long for Atsumu to figure out what was going on. It was all too…too good to be true, for it to have been a natural occurrence.

Kita knew Atsumu would end up on his sofa at some point, he was in personal contact with a retailer who just so happened to have a whole-ass one-bedroom apartment still available in the middle of Tokyo that just so happened to be within Atsumu’s price range.

The sigh that left Atsumu’s mouth was heavy, as was the feeling that settled over his broad chest. Was he grateful? Was he angry? Confused? At that moment he had no idea. He just knew he wanted to sleep for a very long time when this day was done with.

Atsumu, never being one to beat around the bush when it came to anything of real importance, asked “Kita-san already paid the deposit didn’t he?”

Kazuhito gulped, “Y—yeah…and um…” Atsumu barely heard the second part of the sentence, Kazuhito had practically whispered it, “the first month of rent.”

In high school, he’d have definitely blown up about this. His inability to register his own emotions meant they all poured at once into a confused, flustered rage. But it wasn’t as if kicking up a fuss was going to change anything, and it wasn’t as if this was bad.

No, this was…amazing. Kita was amazing.

Not even Osamu had supported Atsumu _this_ much.

Atsumu’s face remained neutral, “Thank you for the tour Kazuhito-san,” He was relieved when the tension left Kazuhito’s face, “And sorry about…all of this.” Why Atsumu ended up apologizing to him he didn’t know, he certainly hadn’t done anything wrong. But it clearly made Kazuhito feel a little better.

He shook his head wildly, “No no it’s ok! I should’ve asked Kita-san more questions. I’ll admit when he asked me to keep an apartment available for a while it was uh, the manager didn’t really like it.”

Atsumu was quite surprised he remembered the previous history lesson, “The son?”

“Yeah he didn’t yell at me or anything, I think he was just concerned I was being scammed. He’s real blunt, a bit like Kita-san only…without the kind part.”

Atsumu didn't even blink as he said, “So he’s an asshole?”

Kazuhito didn’t need to say he agreed with Atsumu, it was obvious he did after he didn’t correct it, “I guess these are yours then,” He smiled as he handed the keys over to Atsumu, “If you need anything you have my number, so don’t hesitate to call me even if you think its something small.”

“I will, thank you for your help Kazuhito-san.” Atsumu said as he followed him back through the apartment and to the front door.

The last thing Kazuhito said before he bowed and left was, “It was really nice to see you again Miya-san.” There was a certain weight behind those words that made no sense to Atsumu, but he didn't dwell on it. He had other things to think about.

Like how he was going to summon the courage to both yell at and thank Kita, how he was going to move all his university belongings from the storage locker across Tokyo without a car, and the fact he had one month to find a job before the next installment of rent was due.

But more immediately, he questioned if he had the strength in him to do any of that when he’d much rather lock himself in that bedroom and smother himself with the pillow.


End file.
